


potentially disastrous (or just plain awkward)

by StuckySituation



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Parallel Universes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-25 02:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17716388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuckySituation/pseuds/StuckySituation
Summary: Somewhere the war was still (possibly, probably) raging on and the men were dying, and Bucky? He was honestly quite happy that a malfunctioning experimental traveling device straight from science fiction had sent him far away from all of that just in time before his deployment.Really, he was in no rush to get back.---In 1943, Steve and Bucky go to the Stark Expo. Instead of the flying car, Howard Stark has something much more interesting on display.Or: Steve and Bucky from a close Parallel Universe get kicked to MCU Universe and straight to 21st century with no way back. Cue for drama, disasters and a lot of awkward as 40s' Steve and Bucky have to find their places in this new age.It's not easy, not for them, nor for their older doppelgangers, Captain Rogers and James Barnes, ex-Winter Soldier.





	1. Interlude: Steve

**Author's Note:**

> Long slow burn from four different POVs; first time for me for that! But one gotta do what one gotta do to see their favourite tropes come to life.
> 
> Regarding Bucky/OFC - Don't worry, Stucky (x2 ;)) is the end game. Eventually.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

There were men dying, even more men were going to die, and what was Steve doing? Wasting time and trailing behind Bucky and the girls as they wandered through the Stark Expo 1943.

 

The fireworks were going off all around the park area, the flashes and bangs and cheerful screams all mocking him. Somewhere, at this very same moment, across the ocean, people were screaming, in the middle of very different kind of flashes and bangs.

 

Steve couldn’t stop himself from fuming internally at the sheer extravagance of the Expo. He was half-way on his way to getting actually pissed off by thinking about all of this money not used for the war effort, when Bucky looked over his shoulder, his smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

 

Bucky pointed to straight ahead of them. “Hey Steve, we’re gonna buy one of those when I get back.”

 

At first glance, Steve thought it was some sort of futuristic spaceship model, before he saw the ridiculous little chimney on top of it, the oddly shaped round dog house in front of it, the striped curtains in its round little windows. Next to it was a large vertical banner with a painted, idyllic picture of a whole village of these odd metal houses, their steel roofs glinting in the sunlight, few of the houses even flying on the sky. There were kids playing on the streets between the houses, adults smiling in fancy suits and dresses. _‘The Future Shines Upon Us - See The Unbelievable Shuttle Home!’_ was declared in thick font above the picture.

 

Mary, Bucky’s date, mock-glared at Bucky from under her eyelashes, pursed lips twitching from amusement. “Don’t you mean _we_ are going to buy one of those houses, Bucky?”

 

Bucky smiled at her and winked. “Mary, my sweetheart, how can you even think that I wasn’t including you? But you’re allergic to dogs, and it ain’t a true American dream without a _dog_. So Steve here, see, he’s gonna live in that dog house and be our little watchdog, he’s got even more bite than bark in him.”

 

Mary laughed and elbowed Bucky, not hard, and Bucky gave a shit-eating smirk to Steve (to which Steve answered with only a raised eyebrow of _‘Really?’),_ before he fully turned back ahead, his arm going around Mary’s shoulders, and the two of them started to paint with the words their future in the shuttle house, which apparently included a lots of long, romantic walks on the moon, with spacesuits on, and their ‘dog’ Steve with them, of course. _(“But we gotta be careful, Mary, we can’t let him bite any aliens. If we don’t watch out, he’s gonna start an intergalactic war, and no thanks, this one war is gonna be enough for me for the rest of my life.”)_

 

Shirley, technically Steve’s date, gave one unimpressed look back to Steve, as if he was actually some dirty mutt following them, before she joined Bucky’s and Mary’s banter with her dry commentary.

 

Steve let their silly conversation roll over him, and looked back to the shuttle house.

 

Apart from being made of metal, it actually looked a lot like something straight from The Shire, with its round edges. Although, to be fair, maybe that was only because Steve was already used to mixing together the Hobbit and scifi oddities.

 

They used to read the book together, Bucky and him; Bucky read aloud while Steve drew illustrations next to him in his sketchbook. Sometimes, Bucky went off the script and added his own details, deadpan and childishly thrilled to see how long it took for Steve to catch on. More often than not, Steve just let Bucky to roll with the changes, to see how far he could pull them off. Steve didn’t think that Shuttle Houses had ever made an appearance, but somewhere in his shoeboxes there were still the sketches of the elves carrying laser guns and of the robot dragon sitting on top of the treasure pile.

 

More fireworks went off, and Steve looked back ahead to Bucky, to his wide shoulders shaking from laughing at whatever silly joke it was that Steve had missed, his new uniform freshly pressed and spotless.

 

Steve threw one last glance at the spacecraft house of the future as they passed it, and some of the earlier fight and anger left him.

 

No, he wasn’t going to make a fuss about the wasteful nature of Expo and spoil Bucky’s fun. If Bucky wanted one last evening full of silly space fantasies and few stolen kisses from Mary, then fine, Steve could save his rants about all this arrogant waste for himself and his sketchbook.

 

In the middle of mentally sketching a dragon herd swimming in treasures while little hobbits were screaming for help from across the river, Mary’s delighted shriek broke through his musings. “Oh my god, it’s starting!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Ladies and gentlemen -- Mister Howard Stark!”_

 

_On the biggest stage, the show girls danced in front of the large doorway; the door, bold and bright in its redness, was shut. Next to it was a control panel, with dozens of buttons of various colours and shapes, all flashing and blinking brightly in mesmerizing pattern._

 

_Howard Stark walked onto the stage, welcomed by the loud applause and cheers._

 

_“Ladies and gentlemen. What if I told you that just in a few short years, your holidays will be spend not on Earth, not even in space, but in another Universe?”_

 

_One press of the button, and the lights on the doorframe turned on, big bulbs bright and blinding all around the door._

 

_(Steve raised his hand in front of his face. He was starting to get the migraine from all of it, because of course Bucky and the girls had wanted to rush close to the stage to see the goddamn show from as close as possible.)_

 

_“With Stark Dimensional Traveling Technology, one day we’ll be able to leave behind our grim everyday lives, and choose to visit any of the Parallel Universes. Today, I’ll show you the glimpse of that bright future.”_

 

_Stark pulled a lever. The lights flickered and turned brighter. The door started to slowly open like a drawbridge, lowering itself._

 

_(Steve caught a glimpse of dark night sky, before half of the light bulbs around the doorframe exploded, and the dark sky behind the door turned into blinding light. Steve had to close his eyes and turn around from the painfully searing light._

 

_People were screaming and someone pushed Steve onto the ground while trying to get farther away from the stage. He felt Bucky’s hand gripping his arm and pulling him upwards, just before everything went sideways and strange for a second; he heard the cacophony of hundreds of voices all speaking on top of each other, he smelled something sweetly disgusting and burnt, and he felt a pull towards the doorway drumming all through his body.)_

 

* * *

 

 

Then it was over. Steve’s ears were ringing.

 

Bucky’s hand was still on his arm, and Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he'd get a bruise from his grip. He raised his hand to cover Bucky’s hand, and Bucky’s fingers spasmed, tightened their hold even more, before Bucky was pulling him harshly to turn towards him.

 

Steve opened his eyes, his sight still screwed over and recovering from the intense light that was now thankfully gone.

 

Bucky’s eyes were wide and flickered between Steve and their surroundings. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, and when Steve nodded, he finally let go. He patted Steve’s arm awkwardly.

 

Steve looked around them. They were clearly in the same park in Queens that they had been in Stark Expo just moments ago, yet clearly… different. Too bright and blue streetlights were illuminating the path farther away. Odd sounds carried from somewhere even farther away, muted and strange.

 

 What was the term that Stark had used? Parallel Universes... Something straight out of the science fiction. But could this be just a trick?

 

The girls were sitting on the ground few feet away. Mary was in quiet tears, her hand in front of her mouth, her wide eyes jumping around. Shirley was shaking and had her hands on top of her ears. Bucky swore quietly and went over to them, kneeled beside Mary and spoke something to her in low, soothing voice.

 

There were a couple dozen others around them in similar state, sitting on the ground or shakily standing. Steve recognized them as other people from the audience, people who had stood beside them and got hit by whatever had happened. But apart from the handful of people, everything else was different. The stage was gone in front of them. No Stark, no doorway. Not only that, the whole Expo was gone around them.

 

Well, not the whole Expo. The Unisphere was still standing, its silhouette dark against the night sky. Alone, without the light show or the monorail circling around it, it looked out of place and a lot less impressive than just the moment ago.

 

Most of the people were checking their companions, staying hunched in little cliques, but there was one woman, around same age as Bucky’s mother, who seemed to be alone, and in the middle of hysterics. She had the wild look in her eyes and she was sobbing, babbling to herself.

 

Steve glanced back to Bucky and the girls, but it didn’t look like he was needed here; Bucky seemed to have the situation under control, and the three of them were talking in hushed up voices.

 

Steve looked back to the woman, who had now started to walk away from everyone. Her hat dropped onto the ground. “Johnny!” she yelled, the desperation and fear clear in her voice.

 

Steve went after her. He picked her hat from the ground, and as he got a few feet away from her, he spoke, aiming for the same calming tone that Bucky was so good with, but which never came so easily for Steve. “Ma’am, please. We need to all stay together.”

 

The woman turned, her eyes watery and glassy. “No, please, I need to find my brother."

 

Steve didn’t know where they were, but he felt sure that wherever it was, it was an impossibly long way from the Stark Expo and ‘Johnny’. He didn’t know what to say, what words to offer her that wouldn’t make him a liar, so he stayed silent and just offered her hat back to her.

 

She took it and broke down in fresh sobs.

 

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, feeling the inadequacy of the words.

 

To his relief, he heard familiar steps behind him, and then Bucky was there.

 

“Shame on you, Rogers, making ladies cry the moment I turn my back on you,” Bucky muttered to him as he brushed past him, before addressing the woman, gently yet firmly; “Ma’am, I’m Sergeant James Barnes. Are you alright? Can you walk?”

 

She looked up to Bucky and visibly gathered herself. She smiled shakily, embarrassment breaking through her shock. “Yes. Yes, I can, Sergeant.”

 

Bucky smiled. “Good. We’re all leaving, gotta find somewhere safe to stay, and find out where exactly that machine sent us.” He looked to Steve, gave a little nod towards the woman. “Take care of her, will’ya?”

 

After Steve nodded, Bucky turned towards others and raised his voice, “Alright, let’s go! Everyone, stay together. We ain’t leaving anyone behind.”

 

Everyone was listening to Bucky, ready to follow his lead, and it wasn't just the uniform, although that clearly helped. Somehow, it was almost more nerving than anything that had happened so far during the evening to realize that his friend really had grown up during all those long months away in the army training, and that Steve had missed all of it. 

 

 _"Why_ are we leaving?" Steve muttered to Bucky, as they set the slow pace towards the strangely lighted path. "Maybe we should stay here. If Stark knows how to get us back..."

 

Bucky gave him a grim look. "Did it look like he had his invention under control back there? Do you really think he is going to open that door and get us back, just like that? It's late, it's gonna rain soon, we need to find shelter and food and keep our heads together."

 

Steve didn't have any argument for that. The woman on her other side kept quiet  _("Mrs. Belmont,"_ she introduced herself as when Bucky asked), as they walked forward, rest of the people following. The strangely lit path got closer, as did the odd sounds from somewhere beyond the darkness and trees.

 

 

 

 


	2. Interlude: Captain

 

 

 

 

There were men dying, even more men were going to die, and Steve wanted nothing more than to throw his goddamn shield onto the ground, nope out, and get home.

 

The rescue mission had been a disaster, all the way from the start to the end. Avengers were too late, medics were too late, reporters were too early. Still, it could have ended differently, but all too fast everything that could possibly go wrong had. The villain had got away, but not before leaving behind the heavy civilian casualties.

 

Flashes were going all around Steve as he walked briskly towards the van that was waiting for him, the cameras harshly bright in the nighttime, here in the middle of the now destructed construction site that had been the stage for this super-villain’s ugly hostage game. Steve did his best to ignore the cacophony of voices around him, all demanding him to answer, all asking for explanations.

 

_“Captain, what did happen-” “Captain, why-” “Captain, how many-” “Captain, whose fault-”_

 

There would be statements and public announcements later. For now, he couldn’t stop to acknowledge any of their questions. Pepper and the rest of Steve’s PR team had gone through the after mission protocols with him over and over again, hammering to him the message of _‘less is better’_ when it came to interacting with the media right after any Avengers fiascos. No matter what he said, he would only end up giving the reporters the field day with any not carefully thought through statements -- even if he somehow managed to first avoid getting riled up by their provocative questions.

 

Still, it was hard to ignore them, the hungry sharks who had sniffed blood and headlines and appeared out of their depths to yell their questions to him over each other, each one trying to get him to stop and comment. It was hard to keep silent, and not give in. He wanted to say sorry, tell them and the public that he and his team were all sorry for what had happened, but too many times even those words had been twisted against the Avengers, taken as if they were announcing themselves guilty for whatever had happened.

 

Clint opened the van’s backdoor from the inside, and gave Steve a grim nod as he climbed in, relieved to sit down and shut the door between himself and the reporters, finally out of the spotlight.

 

He looked around the van. “Where are Sam and Natasha?” He had been out of the comms for the last hour, ever since his earpiece got wrecked, and the last time he had seen either of them had been during the aftermath of the fight when they had been clearing the area and helping to look for survivors.

 

Clint snorted. “You know Nat. She does all she can to avoid getting seen by the media. She’s already on her way back, don’t ask me how.” His expression turned back to grim. “And Sam had to flew someone to the hospital.”

 

Part of Steve wanted to rejoice. Maybe there was hope that they had managed to save one person tonight. But he couldn’t fool himself; he knew that if Sam had to fly someone to the hospital when there were already fully equipped medics and ambulances in the scene, it meant slim chances of survival for whoever it was.

 

Steve looked down at his uniform. Its bright colours were muted by the dust and dirt, and his thighs were covered in dried blood. He remembered holding a dying old man while Sam had done his best to save him.

 

Steve didn’t want to count how many people he had watched to die tonight, not able to help any of them.

 

The rest of the drive was spent in silence.

 

* * *

 

 

Technically, they were expected to debrief as soon as they got back. Technically, they were not to trickle in slowly to the conference room, after going off on their own to any kind of personal detours or routines.

 

Steve wasn’t a big believer in technicalities.

 

Neither Steve or Clint said anything when Steve stepped out of the elevator twenty floors below the floor with the conference room. It was the floor with the gyms, the practise rooms, and the shooting range -- nothing that had anything to do with the post-mission debriefing. The elevator doors closed behind Steve, and Steve suspected that they would open next time to let out Clint ten floors above the floor with the conference room.

 

Steve didn’t know what Clint got up to during those ten, fifteen minutes in his own floor. After successful missions, Clint sometimes cracked jokes about needing to ground himself with cold beer and good old pizza, but Steve didn’t believe that that was the whole truth of it, or even half of it, but for all he knew, Clint’s retreat could be anything from a quick yoga session to wanking to making a phone call to a friend or family member.

 

Whatever it was, it wasn’t Steve’s business. He had his own post-mission routine.

 

Steve walked down the empty hallway towards the shooting range. He could hear the shots hitting the practise targets, and the echoes of the hits.

 

During the missions everyone in the Tower were either in the field, or following the events from the screens, leaving the shooting range empty. Apart from one man in the last stall.

 

A duffel bag was on the floor behind Bucky; on top of it was lying a tablet. Bucky had turned it off already, but Steve knew that it was linked with JARVIS and that Bucky used it to follow the news and comms during the missions.

 

When Steve reached the stall, Bucky lowered the gun and looked over his shoulder, his expression shut off.

 

Steve stood there, quietly, as Bucky put away the gun, carefully cleaning it before putting it in his duffel bug, neither of them breaking the silence. Steve’s super soldier hearing picked easily the familiar and comforting whirring of Bucky’s left arm, as well as the steady heartbeat under the bulletproof suit.

 

Neither of them ever commented on the fact that the only time Bucky got out of his sweaters and sweatpants to put on full Kevlar suit was during the Avengers’s missions. He wasn’t cleared for the field, and technically he didn’t even have his own suit. Technically, he didn’t have a permission to handle the guns without supervising.

 

So many technicalities. Steve wasn’t sure who was supposed to be responsible in making sure that all these minor rules were being followed, but whoever it was, they were doing a bad job.

 

(Actually, it might have been Steve’s responsibility as the team leader. What a hilarious idea.)

 

Bucky nodded towards to tablet. “Thought for a moment you were gonna throw your shield at those reporters.”

 

Steve snorted. “It’s going to be my villain origin story one day. Snapping and murdering the press after some mission.”

 

A ghost of a smile appeared in Bucky’s face, making his lips twitch, giving his eyes a little bit of life. “What an anticlimactic twist.”

 

Steve smiled tiredly. “Yeah.”

 

They fell back into silence. The smile faded away from Bucky’s face.

 

Steve thought about how nice it would be to just stay here. Pick up a gun, ask Bucky to join him, have a friendly shooting competition. Forget all about the debriefing. Forget how he was supposed to go back to the elevator, get up there to the conference room, go through the whole fiasco again with everyone, discuss all their biggest mistakes and _‘should have dones’,_ make plans for what to do next regarding both public and for how to approach the next time they’d see this villain.

 

How nice it would be to stay here, forget about the goddamn Captain America and just stay here with his best friend.

 

Bucky’s right hand brushed against his bicep, hovering for a second, before he took gently hold of Steve’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t...” Bucky’s voice was barely a whisper, his tone uncertain and sad.

 

Steve wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. “Sorry. Tired.”

 

He took a deep breath to gather himself, but then Bucky sighed, shook his head and stepped forward, closing the already short distance between them, and drew Steve into a tight hug, his arms going around Steve’s back, the pressure grounding and soothing, his head falling against Steve’s shoulder and the metal arm whirring along all the movement.

 

Steve leaned against him, rested his head against Bucky’s head, his cheek against Bucky’s long and soft hair, the scent of Bucky’s shampoo so familiar, and he closed his eyes. He could feel the pressure of more tears gathering in his eyes.

 

He could see all the bloody bodies, all the faces twisted in pain and agony. He tried to focus on Bucky’s steady breaths and heartbeat, but they didn’t drown away the memory of the mocking voice laughing at him and taunting him, _‘Captain, Captain, you can’t stop me, who’s gonna die next?’_

 

* * *

 

 

Steve stepped inside the conference room half an hour later, with a clean suit and a washed face. It felt depressingly like he had put a fresh mask on top of the mask, but he tried to not wallow on it.

 

Tony, who was standing in front of the whiteboard, threw his hands up in ridiculously exaggerated manner. “Finally! Honestly, how long can it take to tell your honey-boo you’re home from work? Next time, one old-fashioned peck for the missus and no lingering, Cap, we’ve been waiting for you, chop chop, take a seat.”

 

Steve paused and looked around the room, deliberately ignoring Tony’s needling missus remarks.

 

(During Bucky’s first month back, Steve had gone through the whole range of reactions from stammering _‘It’s not like that’_ to angry declarations of _‘Don’t talk about him like that or I swear to god I’m going to punch your face’,_ but well, after the first shock Bucky had only got amused by the comments and not offended, so Steve had let go of defensiveness and adopted _‘ignore everyone’s jokes, especially Tony’s’_ as his go-to-tactic.)

 

(It was excellent training for ignoring the reporters and their provocations.)

 

Clint, Natasha, and Sam were already sitting at the long table. Sam, who looked as exhausted as Steve felt, gave him a tired nod; Natasha glanced only briefly up from her phone to acknowledge him; Clint didn’t even acknowledge him and instead continued to stare blankly out the window with his arms crossed.

 

Steve looked back to Tony, who was out of place among them, with his fancy suit and his face showing only some regular jet lag tiredness. “What are you doing here? You weren’t on the mission.”

 

“Well, I’m still on the team. You haven’t kicked me out yet, have you? Although I’m very glad I wasn’t there this time. I saw some clips, nasty stuff. Anyway, Pepper sends her regards, she has pushed back all the PR by two days. And more good news, all debriefings and reporting and yadda yadda yadda are pushed for later as well, because, bad news, we have a new situation in our hands.”

 

“A new situation _already?” But Bucky has made lasagna, and he’s waiting for me with the cats, and, because neither of us can ever sleep after missions, we have plans for the Lord of the Rings movie marathon._

 

Clint put his face in his hands. “No. C’mon. We _just_ got back.”

 

Tony waved around his phone, and unfortunately didn’t look like he was evilly pranking them. “Sorry, but yes. Coulson called. There was a suspicious energy surge spike in Queens a couple of hours ago. He dispatched few agents to check it out, and they found a bunch of people wandering outside the Flushing Meadows Park like lost little ducklings, all showing high radiation leftovers.”

 

Steve frowned. “Just regular people? Not any aliens, Asgardians or otherwise?”

 

Tony shrugged. “Apparently not. But Coulson wants us there just in case they are not what they seem, or something dangerous decides to follow them the same annoyingly mysterious way that they got there. Oh, and also these people are blaming my dear father for throwing them there, so yeah, that’s new and not at all ominous.”

 

Clint groaned. “Too ominous. I vote we leave this to you. The rest of us have been up and getting our asses kicked for the last bloody forever. Your turn to have fun. Your dead father somehow messing up, your cleanup.”

 

“Seconded,” Natasha muttered.

 

“Oh c’mon guys, we’re a team. Aren’t you lot curious at all? And hey, no villains in sight, no hostages, just saying.”

 

Steve gave Tony a glare, before turning to others. “Let’s go, so we can get back sometime soon.”

 

“I knew I should have stayed in DC,” Sam muttered, pushed his chair back and stood up. “I’m gonna fucking quit after this, just watch me.”

 

“You can’t if I retire first and give you the shield.”

 

“Oh, don’t you dare to even joke about that, man.”

 

 

 

 


	3. Interlude: Bucky

 

 

 

 

Somewhere the war was still (possibly, probably) raging on and the men were dying, and Bucky? He was honestly quite happy that a malfunctioning experimental traveling device straight from science fiction had sent him far away from all of that just in time before his deployment.

 

Really, he was in no rush to get back. So far this ‘Parallel Universe’ (if Stark hadn’t been pulling their legs with his gabbing in the Expo) didn’t seem too bad. No alien monsters had yet jumped from the bushes and tried to eat them, which was encouraging. Air was breathable. The rain that had started a minute ago had fortunately turned out to be just plain water and not like any of those corrosive rains which always melted the unprepared spaceships in all the stories.

 

Simply put, all the signs pointed that this version of New York (wherever, however, or whenever it was) was inhabitable and they were not in any immediate danger, even if it wasn’t exactly _their_ New York.

 

Bucky was a realist. He knew that there had been a good chance that he wasn’t going to come back from the war; too many men died in wars, and it wasn’t about skill or about who deserved it, just bad luck.

 

Bucky hadn’t planned to try to skirt away from his duty -- he wasn’t a deserter -- but if he got to pick a way to go, well, getting stuck on an unexpected adventure like this, with a pretty girl and Steve along, was millions times more preferable compared to getting shot and bleeding out alone in some muddy trench overseas.

 

(Not that he was going to mention any of this to Steve. If Bucky tried to confess to him how glad he was that they had got away from the war, that daft idealistic punk would look at him like Bucky had confessed wanting to eat a baby or burn the bible.)

 

(Steve had probably had wet dreams of sneaking successfully into the army to jump in front of the other soldiers to die heroically, for god’s sake. Bucky loved him, but he knew that Steve just wouldn't understand.)

 

Bucky’s opinion only strengthened when the path took a turn and they got a proper sightline to the highway, because _holy cows of Jesus Fucking Christ._

 

Someone whistled, and Mrs. Belmont gasped and said, “Oh Lord.”

 

Bucky looked over to her, and put on his most reassuring smile. “They’re only cars, just look a little different. This is a good sign, ma’am, trust me.”

 

(Bucky didn’t elaborate; no reason to let her know that Bucky had already had a small internal freakout back in the park about what the heck they would do if this place turned out to be a post-apocalyptic Parallel Universe with no other humans.)

 

Steve was giving him side-eyes. “Bucky, we aren’t going to stay here just because they have fancy futuristic cars,” he muttered with a crooked smile.

 

The rain had flattened his hair and Bucky could see him shivering. Bucky would have pulled off his jacket and wrapped him in it, if not for the fact that Bucky knew from experience what kind of a fuss Steve could raise about it.

 

Bucky grinned. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

 

“Yes, you were.”

 

“Hey, maybe I was planning how to bring one back home with us.”

 

Mary’s hand on Bucky’s arm almost made him jump. He hadn’t realized that she had appeared on his other side. “Well, I’m certainly ready to look elsewhere if you want to steal few cars for us. Would be nice to get out of this rain.”

 

* * *

 

 

They didn’t have a chance to stand in the rain and gawk at the cars or at the unfamiliar buildings behind the road for long before two black, sleek and intimidating cars pulled over, and (real, actual, _holy shit)_ men in black stepped out, greeted them with professional politeness and inquired where they were from and if they needed any help.

 

People stepped forward, started to talk over each other, and their explanations became a tangled mess, but the agents let it all roll out and they seemed to be able to pick out the general gist of it.

 

“It sounds like you are a long way from home,” a woman, with black hair pulled back in neat ponytail and with the general air of efficiency around her, said with a small smile. Bucky couldn’t decide if he was unnerved or not by how unfazed and unsurprised she and the other agents looked after their crazy summary of the last hour. “I’m Agent Walters. My colleagues” -- she gestured towards the four other agents -- ”and I are from an agency that is familiar with cases such as yours. There’s a closed store only a small walk away. Please, let us escort you there, so we can all stay in somewhere dry and warm while working on getting you back.”

 

Bucky hesitated. It could be a trap. But what choice did they have?

 

* * *

 

 

Ten minutes later they were at 'the store'. Disappointingly, ‘the store’ turned out to be a boringly bland ‘Home Depot’; a grey and square building, nondescript and ugly in a way that not even the trash cans in the Stark Expo had been.

 

One of the agents opened the backdoor, and they were all ushered inside.

 

The large warehouse hall was dark, except for a couple of uncomfortably bright lights above the door. The hall was full of ceiling high grey-and-orange racks, all packed with brown packages of different sizes, but otherwise, the hall was bare.

 

Mary leaned closer and whispered, "Not quite a Shuttle Home."

 

Bucky chuckled and whispered back, "Yeah, we'll pass on this one." Bucky turned to look at Steve, but he hadn't heard, what with being busy frowning and looking around, all in his own world.

 

“This way,” one of the agents said, and guided them all to left, and to an unremarkable grey door, which soon was opened to show a large room with a long table and a dozen or so chairs around it. There were cabinets along one wall, and a couple of couches along the other.

 

Agent Walters walked over to one of the cabinets and opened it with a key. Inside were water bottles and small packages, which Bucky assumed were some sort of snacks or food. “We’ll get some coffee for everyone and I need to make a couple of calls. Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable, we’ll be staying here until the transport to the safer place can be arranged. That might take some time, because most of our agents and vehicles on shift are working elsewhere right now.”

 

“This place is alright with all of us just being in here?” one guy with mustache -- Wallace? Walter? Bucky couldn’t remember his name -- asked suspiciously.

 

Agent Walters smiled. “Yes. Our agency has a long term contract with the owners. We have quite a few discreet safe spots like this around the city, in case something unexpected like tonight happens.”

 

The people trickled inside the room through the narrow doorway. “Go sit down, I’ll grab us some water and food,” Bucky said to Mary. She nodded, and went straight to the couches where Shirley and Mrs. Belmont were already sitting, next to an older gentleman. (Mr. Collins? Or was it Mr. Connor? There had been too many new names in the last half an hour. He should have done better job with memorizing all the new names. His ma had taught him better than this.)

 

Bucky frowned and looked around. People were filling the room, yet one blonde head was nowhere to be seen.

 

Bucky's heart jumped to his throat. _He had turned his back for one goddamn moment._ Bucky was going to kill him.

 

(Sometimes, in moments like this, he really fantasized that it was possible to just put a collar on Steve and walk him in the leash all the time in public. Just something to stop him from putting the stupid on in the most inconvenient times.)

 

Bucky rushed to grab few plastic water bottles and a handful of snacks from the cabinet, then all but threw them onto the couch next to the girls and muttered some excuses, before he walked to the door leading back to the hall.

 

One of the agents stepped towards him, tensed up despite the polite smile. “Is everything alright?”

 

“Uh.” A smart thing would be to tell him that Steve was missing, but Bucky had a lifetime long habit of covering for Steve’s sorry ass. He coughed awkwardly. “The nature calls. Is there anywhere I could…?”

 

“Of course, follow me.”

 

Bucky followed behind the agent, all the while looking around, trying to spot Steve. As they walked between the racks towards the opposite wall of the hall, Bucky spotted him through the gaps between the loosely shelved packages. Steve was standing in the next aisle behind the rack, and holding and tearing carefully open one of the brown packages.

 

Bucky glanced forward. The agent seemed preoccupied by the small device in his hand, so Bucky slowed his steps and coughed into his hand.

 

Steve looked up and his eyes widened as he saw Bucky.

 

Bucky mouthed _‘What the fuck?!’_ at him.

 

Steve waved to him sheepishly.

 

Bucky pointed angrily back towards the room where everyone else was already gathered, and then lost sight of his friend as he had to keep following the agent towards the bathroom and the packages filled again the rack between them so that no gaps remained.

 

* * *

 

 

When Bucky got back from the bathroom, Steve was outside the room where everyone else were, leaning against the wall and the water bottle in his hand.

 

The door was open and the light shone through it. Bucky could see one of the agents inside the room, talking with people and writing down notes on a small book. The agent who had escorted Bucky to the bathroom glanced back to him only briefly to make sure that he had followed, and then went off towards another door further away, already his attention back on the small black device in his hand.

 

Bucky walked next to Steve. He put his hands in his pockets.

 

Steve smiled drily at him. “You look like your mother when you get all disapproving.”

 

“What were you doing?” Bucky asked him quietly.

 

“You even sound like her.”

 

Bucky glared at him.

 

Steve nodded towards the racks and answered him just as quietly. “I just checked a few packages. Don’t worry, I left them like they were.”

 

“But _why?”_

 

Steve shrugged. “Just wanted to see that there was actually some stuff inside them. Well, looks like this actually is a real warehouse.”

 

Bucky sighed. “What could you have even done if they had been just props?”

 

“I don’t know. I just had to know if they were lying to us.”

 

“Steve. I asked you to help keep an eye on Mrs. Belmont.” He made a big show of looking around him. “Huh. Can’t see her anywhere, weird. How did you lose her?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “The girls are keeping her company.”

 

“I don’t _care._ I asked _you_ to take care of her.”

 

“She got over her hysterics ages ago. She doesn’t need looking after, she’s a grown-ass woman.” Steve huffed, all indignant. “I’m not stupid, I know what you’re trying to do. It’s your _‘please watch Becca and make sure she stays right here’_ play. I'm not falling for it.”

 

Too bad. That had been a genius tactic the few times it had worked; asking Steve to look after something or someone, so _he_ would stay safe while Bucky ran after the bullies who had beat him up, or whatever possibly dangerous he had to do.

 

“Yeah, well, I know you, and look, that spill about staying all together? That included you too, moron. No running away on your own.”

 

Steve snorted and saluted him mockingly, his lips pursed in annoyance. “Yes, _sir._ Sorry, _sir.”_

 

Bucky looked down at him. Steve’s defiant face and stubborn tilt of his jaw told Bucky exactly how very not sorry the punk was for making Bucky worry.

 

Bucky didn’t know if he wanted to punch him or--

 

Bucky had a sudden flash of certainty that if somehow they would have got to the army together -- if somehow Steve had succeeded with his document fakeries and got enlisted -- and if Bucky had somehow ended up as his Commanding Officer, well, Bucky would have ended up losing his mind, all thanks to Steve’s authority issues, and deserting in less than a week.

 

At least some good had come from Steve’s long list of ailments.

 

“Just get inside there, punk, and don’t give me more heart attacks.” When Steve just rolled his eyes again at him like it was some sort of joke, Bucky stepped closer, grabbed his arm and lowered his voice. “Steve, I’m serious. _This_ is serious. You can’t wander alone around this place.”

 

Steve glared at him. “I’m not going to get _lost._ I’m not some little kid or helpless puppy.”

 

“I know.” _You’re worse._ “Please, just stay close. Don’t go around looking for even more trouble. We know nothing about this place. Hell, we don’t know anything about these agents. What if one of them had noticed you sneaking around on your own and had shot you?”

 

Steve frowned. Clearly he hadn’t thought about that. Still, his expression turned only more stubborn. “That only means we should _find out_ more about this place. We can’t just sit around and wait.”

 

“Yes, we can, and yes, _we will.”_

 

“Oh for god’s sake, Bucky. Stop trying to tell me what to do. You might be a  _Sergeant_ now, but-”

 

“Is everything alright, sir?” Agent Walters’s sharp voice made Bucky jump.

 

Bucky let go of Steve’s arm and stepped back. Agent Walters was standing about ten feet away from them, her sharp eyes on Bucky. “Yes. Just a disagreement between friends.”

 

Agent Walters looked between them suspiciously, then paused. Her eyes widened and she stared at Steve.

 

Steve straightened up self-consciously and stopped lounging against the wall. His face was still flushed angrily. When the staring continued, he raised his eyebrow and asked defensively, “What?”

 

Agent Walters had an inscrutable expression on her face. “Steve Rogers?”

 

Steve looked to Bucky in confusion, before nodding to her. "Yes. Um. How did you know that?"

  
Agent Walters stood frozen, her eyes flickering between them, until finally she raised her hand to her ear. “Requiring backup here immediately. We have at least one high profile civilian, possible more, in need of protection and discreet evacuation. And Jen, get me through to Coulson, _now.”_

 

 

 

 


	4. Interlude: (I the hell is) Bucky (I guess?)

 

 

 

 

A lot of people had died, and Bucky felt like a failure for not having been there beside Steve when it had happened.

 

He knew he wasn’t ready. But knowing it didn’t help much. Not when he had been alone in the shooting range, sitting on the floor and gripping the new tablet  _(‘Yes, yes, of course I’ll get you a new tablet, Barnes. What model do you want this time? Is your arm malfunctioning, do you want me to look at it?’)._ Knowing that the best thing to do was to stay out of their way didn’t help when Steve got back like he had been tonight.

 

At least Bucky hadn’t been there making things worse. At least he hadn’t shot any of those people there himself. What had his therapist said? Try to take joy from the small things.

 

_I didn’t kill any of those people. Sam, Nat, and Clint are alright. Steve got back alright. Steve is safe, just doing the debriefings, and soon back._

 

_We’re going to have good food and watch good movies._

 

_Maybe for once the cats are not assholes and don't try to bite our toes off._

 

Verna jumped onto the kitchen table and would have pushed over the milk carton if not for Bucky’s supersoldier reflexes.

 

So much for impossible wishes. Bucky gave her a glare. She stared back defiantly and sat her fluffy white ass down on top of Bucky’s empty plate, in a way that couldn’t be comfortable.

 

Bucky picked her up, planning to put her back on the floor, but when she pushed her head against his cheek and started to purr very unapologizingly, Bucky sighed and just sat on one of the kitchen chairs and let her stay in his lap.

 

Nat said that they were spoiling the cats. She could be right.

 

Bucky’s phone pinged.

 

 **Steve:** _new situation in queens, gotta go. sorry. save some food for me? will call as soon as i can._

 

Bucky put the phone onto the table and stared at it blankly. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. He remembered the exhausted man he had shoved into the elevator not even twenty minutes ago _(‘Go get it over with. If you’re quick, I might save you some of the food.’)_

 

A soft thump. Bucky saw in his peripheral vision Little Shit on the kitchen counter, starting to lick the lasagna.

 

Verna perked up in his lap, looking interested as well about food.

 

Bucky sighed and googled _‘is lasagna bad for cats’._ After getting the answer that yes, it was indeed bad for them, he stood up, put Verna back on the table, and then pushed Little Shit, the chubby red tabby, away from the food.

 

He put the lasagna and milk to the fridge, and put some more cat food for the cats and changed their water to fresh.

 

Then he went to change back into his Kevlar suit, and tried to not think too much. 

 

 _('_ _You've always had a wild imagination, Bucky. Have I told you about all the twists you used to put in when you read the Hobbit for me? No? Anyway, what I mean... Please try not to worry. It's going to go alright, this shouldn't be a long mission. Just... JARVIS will be here for you if you need anything, okay? I've gotta go. I'm sorry. I'll call you as soon as I can.')_

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr (only stucky stuff, mostly art and gif reblogs)](https://stuckysituation.tumblr.com)   
>  [rebloggable post for the fic](https://stuckysituation.tumblr.com/post/182703595794/fic-potentially-disastrous-or-just-plain)


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